


Rough Around the Edges

by disalae



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disalae/pseuds/disalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post ending. She was better off than most. Not that she believed that, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Around the Edges

**Author's Note:**

> Mild spoilers. Post ME3 Destroy/Shepard lives ending. Assumes Normandy did NOT leave/crash land.

When they found Shepard after the blast she had severe burns, a dislocated shoulder paired with a nest of shattered ribs, a windpipe that’d seen better days, a left hand with a finger missing and right hand that was only a hand in the most technical of ways.

But she was alive, so she was doing better than most.

Not that she thought that way, of course.

She put on a brave face, naturally. Always did. People would ask how she was doing and she’d smile as best she could, saying she’d already died once and hadn’t felt like doing it again. It usually got a chuckle, or a the least a sympathetic smile.

But Garrus knew better. Had heard her talking to Alenko once in the armory as he was fidgeting with some of the weapons, her voice still quiet and rough from injury.

“Remember when I used to headbutt krogan?” she asked. She had a pistol in her reconstructed hand, and was trying to pull the trigger. She couldn’t.

“You could still take one,” Kaidan replied quickly, but he was a terrible liar. There was a pause, before he offered: “I could go find Wrex?”

What came from Shepard was a half-hearted, rough sound that Garrus figured was _supposed_ to be a laugh, but sounded more like a sob. She’d then leaned into Kaidan’s shoulder, her face buried in his neck as he rubbed her back in slow circles, the gun hanging limply from her fingers.

If she’d cried, Garrus wouldn’t know. Didn’t feel right standing there anymore, so he’d left. Hell, maybe she’d gone and headbutted Wrex after all. Besides, he’s pretty sure she’d kill him if he ever saw her cry, best friend or not. Had to keep up appearances.

A month or so later he was back in the armory when a voice popped up behind him, and he would have jumped if he were anyone else. He turned to find Shepard, peeking around him at the workbench.

“That’s Legion’s Widow, right?” Her voice is full of self deprecation. “Think I could shoot it?”

Garrus nods his head. “Sure. But, this thing isn’t really your style, is it?”

She gave a conceding look as her gaze began to wander, drifting over the racks of shotguns lining the back wall. “Nah, you know me. I wanna _smell_ their last breath.”

Garrus laughed. “Well, we haven’t got any banshees for you to get up close and personal with, but I’m pretty sure I heard that bottle over there say something unpleasant about your mother’s,” he searched for something appropriate, “ah, girth.”

Shepard’s face fell, and she shook her head. “I can barely hold a damn gun, Garrus.”

“When’s the last time you tried?”

Her face was petulant and defeated and it didn’t look anything like the Shepard he knew, so Garrus turned and grabbed the lightest shotgun he had off the rack and shoved it into her hands. "Garrus..."

He put a hand up to quiet her. “The Shepard I know wouldn’t let a little thing like getting her hand blown off stop her from what she loves most.”

“Oh yeah, and what _do_ I love most?”

Like it or not, he knew she loved lots of things. She loved looking at the stars at night like she hadn’t been stuck among them for years. Loved getting drunk and making an ass out of herself. Loved Alenko. Loved her whole damn crew.

Oh right, and: “Making things go boom.”

Garrus saw a look in her eye, and could tell she agreed. He could also see determination and stubborness in her gaze, and he didn’t realize until now but it’d been a _long_ time since he’d seen that.

He also saw hesitation, still. Damn. He was going to have to bring out the big guns.

“But that’s all in the past, of course,” he said with a shrug. "Say, what _do_ human war veterans do once they get too soft for battle? It’s not something that happens on Palaven, so call it a cultural curiosity.”

Shepard set her jaw and looked at Garrus with a look that, frankly, scared him a little. Then just like that she turned, put the gun to her shoulder, and with only the faintest hint of hesitation, fired.

Of course the recoil nearly knocked her off her feet, and the sound she made when it kicked back into her shoulder wasn’t _extremely_ dignified. And she missed, of course, but that would have happened anyway. She was always a crap shot unless she was a foot in front of something.

But she pulled the trigger, and what came from her after she did was a laugh; a real one, even if it was still a little rough around the edges.

Might not be much, but it was a start.


End file.
